Our new normal.

Life has changed.

I expected when I finally and fully retired that life would be somewhat different; never could have imagined this. People wearing masks on the street, keeping their distance. Can’t see their faces but I can see the alarm in their body language if my allergies cause me to cough. It is weird. The last time I felt this kind of tension in the air I was a teenager and the Cuban missile crisis was on. Life went on as normal except for the feeling that it could end at any time. Maybe now. Maybe in the morning while we are all still asleep. The air was full of menace then, as it is now.

It’s been this way for so many weeks that we seem to be actually getting used to it. We’re adapting, becoming like the wild cattle grazing under the watchful eyes of lions on the hill above. We’re beginning to gather with close friends (not too close!) under fresh new rules. Never indoors. Bring your own beverages and glassware. Keep at double arms length. No hugs. We can’t not do it, we’re social animals. We’re fed up with ZOOM meetings and emailed jokes and cartoons. We want to be together. And it seems we’re coming to accept what we choose to see as reasonable risk in order to get back some of the life we lost just six months ago. Every evening the news reports accumulating cases, new “hot spots” as populations mingle to drink together, get haircuts and nails done. None of that stops us. It’s the new normal. I dislike the term, “The new normal”. It’s like an advertising slogan meant to explain the unexplainable and justify everything about this new life that’s toppling everything around us. But it seems to be what we want. Someone to tell us how to live this new life. Up here on Rebel’s Isle we feel safe. Our little island has always been a safe haven from the ravages of the city. Our little kingdom where we can let our housebound cat roam free. Where we can breathe without fear. We barely get the news up here and we busy ourselves with important things like maintaining paths, raking and sweeping, washing decks and brushing pine pollen from the screens with a soft bristle broom. We practice the refined art of sitting. Sitting in just the right place to fully embrace the sunrise, or the golden glow of the rising full moon. We enjoy riding the slowest boat on the lake, puttering along the shores, taking in the changes. We mix delicious cocktails, drink reasonably good wines, and grill meals others reserve for guests. We know every resident bird by its first name, and all their children. And in the evenings Annie beats me at Scrabble. This is our old normal. What’s new is we can have as much of it as we want. I loved my job, I loved my work. I also love not working, being able to pack the car, and grab the cat and get up here whenever the weather gets good. Used to have to wait and hope the weather would hold until the weekend. Now we don’t know or care what day it is. Call it our new normal.